The Watchers
by Decadebaby
Summary: Like most of the MS fans, I was glued to tumblr and twitter watching the various dinners and events that Tim Daly and Téa Leoni have attended. I was thinking how frustrating it must be to have the cameras catching your every move. This story stems from that and the toll being in the public eye takes on your family.
1. Chapter 1

Jason McCord flung his backpack on his bed, grateful that it was Thursday. One more day. He thought to himself. He was looking forward to the weekend, and sleeping in on Saturday. It would be the first weekend in ages when he wouldn't have to go to some ridiculous function standing next to his mother in a suit looking like a total dweeb.

He wandered down the hallway. Both his Dad and his oldest sister were still at school, and his mother was, at work, of course. Feeling oddly lonesome, he stood in Alison's open doorway.

"What's going on dork?" He asked.

She said nothing and just rolled her eyes at him. She was sitting at her desk, doing homework. Alison always did her her homework the second she came through the door. It was pathetic really. Even when she'd had a boyfriend, she'd put schoolwork ahead of him in her priority list. It was shocking that he was surrounded by such complete and total nerds.

"C'mon, let's play basketball or something." He pleaded. "I'm bored."

"You've been home for ten seconds." She pointed out without looking up.

He leaned closer, reading over her shoulder and was surprised to see she had a magazine tucked inside her math book. He caught a glimpse of his father's face before she hid it, self-consciously.

"What's that?" He asked.

"Nothing." She said sharply.

He shrugged his shoulders - there were tons of articles about his parents these days. After everything that had happened, the press couldn't seem to get enough of the McCords. The press were constantly lurking trying to get a shot of him or of his sisters on their way to school.

There was a horrible embarrassing picture of him in People magazine recently. It was after the hearing but before they knew his mother wasn't going to jail - he was understandably stressed. It might have even been taken his first day back to school after the hearing - he wasn't sure. All he knew was that he was really, really worried, and terrified they would send his mom to prison. His father had taken him to school that day, and he had uncharacteristically hugged his father good-bye. He had needed to feel his father's arms around him, strong and reassuring. Surprised, his father had hugged him tightly, and kissing the top of his head whispered in a voice husky with tears, "It's gonna be okay, buddy. Everything will be okay no matter what happens." And of course, that was probably the precise moment the shutter clicked. His teary, stressed face with his father's kiss on his forehead plastered across the pages of people magazine.

He had found his locker wallpapered with it after the article had come out. He simply shrugged it off - leaving it on his locker and drawing a heart around his own face. He decided his best defense was to blow the whole thing off - as if he didn't mind the world seeing his daddy give him a kiss and a hug before school.

"Alison, you okay?" He asked his sister.

She looked up, no doubt surprised that he hadn't ended the sentence with the word nerd or dork.

"Yeah." But her voice held a heaviness, and he paused, suddenly curious. Maybe there was something going on that they weren't telling him.

"Is something going on?" He asked directly, suddenly feeling nervous.

"No. Everything's fine. You know. They told us. No one is pressing charges and all of that stuff is over."

"You'd tell me though?" He asked.

"Sure."

Her tone left him doubting her words. His sisters tended to think of him as being a six year old still. They kept him out of the loop of a lot of things. He'd been the last one to know about all the mess with Iran, and he'd been really angry that they had kept it from him. At the time, he had kept his anger to himself, too worried about his mother to pile on any stresses. He felt knots in his stomach all over again when he thought of her first days back. She was so thin and jumpy and unfamiliar. They were all so very happy to have her safe and home, and yet, she wasn't really home. That had taken a lot longer.

"We could make cookies?" He suggested, hoping to draw Alison away from her books.

"I guess." She said reluctantly.

They went downstairs together and as they gathered ingredients in the kitchen, Alison asked him, "Did you see Mom this morning?" His school started a good twenty minutes later than hers.

"Nope. I think she didn't come home last night."

"Oh."

A look he didn't understand passed over her face, and he thought to follow it up with another question but just then the door swung open and Stevie stepped into the room.

"Hello, nerds!" She greeted them, picking him up off the ground and kissing him.

"Cut it out!" He said struggling against her, completely annoyed that she was still strong enough to lift him off the ground.

***MS***

He snuck the magazine she'd been hiding from her room when she was taking a shower. He thumbed through it sprawled out on his bed, avoiding his English homework. It was a typical gossip magazine - tons of pictures of actors doing ordinary stuff like walking their dog or playing with their kids at the park. His least favorite kind of magazine.

The picture of their parents was in the middle of the magazine - right at the fold. It was one huge picture of the two of them, on a park bench - probably Rawlins Park where they would sometimes meet in the middle of the day. There were three smaller pictures in boxes around the edges. The title caught his eye first - On the Rocks? It said in all caps across the top. He shook his head, but studied the picture. They were clearly in mid conversation. His father's hand mid air, his face tense; angry. His mother's face was down, and very sad. He didn't like the picture. He studied the smaller pictures - one of his father his face turned away from his mother, another with her walking away from him, and the last one was his father alone on the same bench leaning forward his elbows on his knees looking sad.

"You stole that!" Alison stood in his doorway, her hair dripping wet, dressed in her fuzzy pink pajamas.

"Why were you hiding it?"

"Don't be stupid." She snatched away from him.

"You can't seriously believe that stupid thing?" He asked her.

"Forget it, Jason." She turned and went to her bedroom but he followed her.

"Seriously?" He asked. "C'mon. Ali! You know mom and dad. You can't be stressing over this?"

"Mom hasn't been home in two days." She said flatly. "Those pictures are from earlier this week. I remember when Dad wore that shirt!"

"Yeah, but we would know if they were fighting. C'mon. We are talking about Mom and Dad! Ali, they are always making out!"

"When?" Ali asked him. "Not this week. She hasn't been home."

"That happens. C'mon. You are stressing over nothing. This is mom and dad, okay?"

Alison could be ridiculously dramatic sometimes but later, he found himself watching his Dad with cautious eyes. Alison was doing the same thing. The trouble with spying on his parents was that they were both really, really good at noticing every detail. It was the downside to having a parent in the CIA. He figured some of his mother's spy skills had spilled over on his father.

"So," His father said sitting on the end of his bed, later that night. "What is going on with you and Ali?"

"What do you mean?"

His father sighed. "Look, can we just skip past the part where you act like you don't know what I'm talking about, and I call you on it, and then you finally admit something's going on - it will save us time."

"Where's mom?" Jason asked, watching closely for his father's reaction.

"Work."

There was nothing different about his father's face as he answered. He sounded slightly annoyed but Jason couldn't tell if he was annoyed with him or her.

"Something you wanna talk to her about?" His father's voice was gentler. "We can call her. She won't mind, bud."

"No. I just . . .its fine."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Okay." His father reached out , giving his shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "You change your mind, you know where to find me."

"Night Dad."

"Night."

He rolled over and fell asleep quickly but was plagued by bad dreams. Every dream was fuzzy and vague but ended the same way every time; his mother walking away.

***MS***

"What are you doing up?" Henry McCord asked his wife. He had tip toed quietly into their bedroom expecting to find her asleep but instead she was sitting up in bed, glasses on with her laptop open in front of her.

"No working. You said you were going to rest today. C'mon babe."

"I'm still in bed." She said sweeping her hands out.

He sat across from her. "Can't sleep?"

"Henry, it's 9:30." She took off her glasses and started to throw back the covers. "I need coffee."

He held out a hand, stopping her. "Stay in bed. I'll get it. Egg?"

"Breakfast in bed? Is it Mother's Day?"

He leaned in giving her a kiss. "I missed you, Babe. Be right back."

He returned with a tray with coffee, an egg white omelette and a bowl of fresh strawberries.

"Wow!" She said, taking a sip of coffee. "Thank you."

He sat down on the bed facing her and reaching for a strawberry.

"Just trying to make sure the glory of home measures to the fancy state department shindigs." He shrugged his shoulders.

"The state department lacks a critical element, babe." She said with a shy smile. "It doesn't have you."

"Aw," He said winking at her. "You are such a kiss-ass."

She shook her head at him, laughing. "It's Saturday, right? I keep thinking I'm supposed to be in the office."

"It's Sunday. You missed a day. And you've missed entirely too much sleep so, eat this and then back to bed."

"I am in bed!" She gestured with her hand. "Where are the kids?"

"Stevie is, you aren't going to believe this, but it's true - she's at a study group. Alison spent the night at Isla's and Jason went over to Hunter's house to play basketball."

"It's 9:30 in the morning!" She exclaimed.

"Actually, it is almost eleven." He shrugged his shoulders. "Did you have your glasses on when you read the time?"

"Oh, God!" She said as he laughed. "That's the third time I've done that this week!"

"Well, darling, I think you might just have some sleep to catch up on."

"Maybe." She agreed. Having finished the eggs, she set the tray aside, lifting the coffee to her lips. "Tell me about the kids. I swear I haven't seen them in months."

"They are fine." He told her.

"That isn't very informative, Henry. C'mon, I rely on you to be my insider. What's going on?"

"Oh, I don't know." He sighed. "Stevie has seemed a little down lately. Have you noticed it?"

She nodded her head. "I'm sorry to say, but I think she is still grieving Starthur."

He considered this. "I guess maybe that's it. A lot happened all at the same time. I'd forgotten about Arthur."

"I'm sure you had." She laughed.

"What?" He asked her. "You liked him?"

"Settle down, Henry." She waved a hand at him. "I'm on Team McCord."

"And Jason is settling really well. He's been spending a lot of time with Hunter, Jax and a kid they all call Bender."

"Is his last name Bender?" She asked.

"Cortez." He shook his head. "I'm not sure I want to know how he got the nickname. I probably would feel less comfortable about them hanging around if I knew the full story."

"Something to investigate though."

He smiled at her. "You love an investigation."

"What about Ali?"

"Something's going on there. Jason knows about it, too. I couldn't crack her though. She's been shut up like a clam. It made me regret disconnecting the ipad."

"Maybe she'll talk to me." She took another sip of coffee.

"But with my amazing tradecraft, I figured it out. I mean not just anyone can think to look at a magazine left open in plain sight. I got skills, baby." He rose and crossed to the desk, lifting a magazine off the top. He returned to the bed, and moving the tray onto the nightstand, he sat beside her.

"This is your big clue?" She asked.

"I found it open on Alison's bed. She didn't leave it there though, Jason did. When I took them to school yesterday, he doubled-back upstairs saying he forgot something. But he came downstairs empty-handed. The whole thing was fishy and he was really overt about it - like he wanted me to investigate - which I did. This was lying open on Ali's bed."

He opened the magazine to the middle and handed it to her. She exhaled slowly studying the picture.

"Well, that is not a very flattering shot." She leaned closer squinting. "When was it?"

"Last week. I think it was Tuesday or Wednesday." He sighed.

"What do you think we were talking about?" She asked him.

"Probably nothing." He sighed. "Tells a good story though."

"Those bastards." She sat back with a sigh. "They put those goddamn things on burst and every single . . ." She turned toward him. "And I haven't been home in four days! Ali must be so stressed out."

"She's a worrier." He shrugged.

"She's at Isla's?"

"Yeah, but I told her that she needed to be home by one." He lifted the magazine, studying the page. "I wish I could remember what we were talking about." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"We talk about the most boring stuff." She turned to look at his face. "I was probably complaining about not being home, or how much my feet hurt!"

"You probably weren't complaining at all, babe. You know how it is - right click at the wrong time - and everyone thinks they can see inside our lives."

"We've told them this - a hundred times." She said exasperated.

"Yeah, but c'mon. The press has been crazy since the hearing. Something is going to happen somewhere else, and the heat will be off us."

"Soon, I hope." She sighed again. "Henry, does it make me a bad person if I wish someone would get caught in an affair or embezzling money, so that we can breathe a sigh of relief?"

"I'm pretty sure that it just makes you a protective mom." He kissed her cheek. "It's DC, babe. Both those things are just around the corner. In the mean time, I think Ali needs some reassurance."

"First thing when she gets home." His wife agreed. She glanced over at the clock. "Which is soon?"

"About an hour." He said laughing.

"So," She paused, an eyebrow arched at him. "You've got time to reassure me."

He grinned as he leaned close to kiss her. "Yes, ma'am."


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as she stepped into the house, Alison McCord could tell that her mother was home. It was impossible to put into words, but the whole house felt different when her mother was around. She exhaled slowly, tension leaving her body. She only hoped that whatever tremendous fight her parents had been having would be over. She lifted her bags, and headed toward the stairs. Dropping them just inside the door, and she was stunned to see the magazine she'd been hiding lying open in the middle of her bed.

Jason was such a pill sometimes. She knew he had done it, and quickly crossed the room closing it, and tossing it into her desk drawer. Her eyes landed briefly on the disturbing picture of her parents mid-fight for all the world to see. Tears filled her eyes, and she rubbed them away. She tried to convince herself she was tired from staying up so late at Isla's, but really, she hadn't slept well since she'd seen the article. The angry images seemed to follow her wherever she went. So much had been difficult lately, and she was so afraid that it would split the whole family apart.

Tristan was the one who gave her the magazine. He was, without a doubt, the biggest jerk she'd ever known. When she'd first come to school, he'd been sickly sweet - overtly fake - trying to get a date with her. When she turned him down, he spent most of his time "accidently" bumping into her - either knocking her books out of her arms or touching her boobs, and usually it was both. After awhile, she started stiff-arming him whenever he came near - dropping any pretense of polite society. She was pretty sure that she was going to have to kick him in the balls before the year was out and then another McCord would get expelled from Westmorland. He'd approached her Wednesday morning, and she had an arm out and ready.

"Chill, McCord." He said, stopping two feet away from her. "I come in peace."

"I doubt that." She said.

"I just wanted to offer my condolences." He told her.

"Condolences for what?" She asked him, glancing around at the small crowd that had gathered.

"The death of your family."

He tossed the magazine at her, but her reaction time had been too slow. It landed open at her feet - and of course open to the page with her parent's picture splashed across it. Everyone looked at it and then at her with pity before walking away.

She lowered herself on shaky legs, and studied the picture. Her father's face looked angry or maybe upset, and her mother looked sad. She felt suddenly ill, and wanted to run and hide. She thought back over the last week. Her mother hadn't been home, and she couldn't remember hearing her dad talking to her on the phone - they always did that when she got stuck at work. Her father's voice going over the details of their day was a comfortable sound. His voice changed whenever he was talking to her - became completely relaxed; content. She felt better when she heard them talking together, but it seemed like it had been forever since she'd heard it. Things had been so crazy since . . . all the way back to just before her birthday when her mother had gone to Iran.

At the time, she'd been so determined to be grown up - to know all the things that Stevie did, but after understanding precisely what Mr. Cole's death meant, understanding everything that had happened, she longed to be too young for such knowledge. Watching her mother sobbing in her father's arms, frightened and sad, she longed to be six years old again, and her biggest problem was that Jason was hogging the swing.

She stood in the middle of her bedroom wondering if anyone had seen the magazine, when she heard the sound of laughter. She stepped into the hallway, listening.

"I did not!" Her mother was saying. "Henry, you are completely making that up!"

"Fine. I'll drag out the photo album. You forget. I've got proof, baby!"

"No. No! Don't! I look terrible in the photo. Alright, I give. You are right, but you tricked me. I never would've had jumped off the dock if you hadn't dared me."

She stepped closer, finding a hopefulness at the sound of their laughing - the sound of their voices together. The door to the room was half open and she could see the side of her mother, who was sitting on the end of the bed. She could just see the side of her father's leg - he must be standing in front of her. She could see the side of her mother's face, though. She was smiling.

Alison felt her body relax. Maybe Jason was right and it was nothing to worry about. The laughter grew quiet and her mother rose, and standing on tiptoe, moving closer to her father. Alison blushed realizing that they were probably kissing. She stepped back, and turned to go, but forgot about the one squeaky spot on the floor.

"Alison?" Her father's voice chased after her, even as she tried to escape. "You're home?"

"Yes." She said.

"Well, get in here!" He said pushing the door open. "Mom's home!"

She hadn't seen her mother in five days, and she'd missed her. She rushed into the room, so happy to have her back home again. Since Iran she was really nervous when they weren't together, and liked to keep her family close where she could see them. She went immediately to her mother, who wrapped her in a tight hug.

"Alison Grace!" She said kissing her. "I've missed you!"

"I'm glad you're home." She said sinking into her mother's arms.

"I'm sorry I missed your choir performance."

"That's okay." Alison shrugged. "Dad was there."

Her mother squeezed her again and said "But I wanted to be there! I had to bear witness to this horrible choir dress you've been complaining about."

"Dad took pictures. He didn't send them to you?" She felt a sudden anxious fluttery feeling. _Why wouldn't he have sent her the pictures? Were the hiding something? Were they pretending to be happy for her sake?_

"He did, but your father's photography is a lot like my cooking." She smiled over the top of Alison's head at her father.

"Hey! That isn't true!"

"Henry, you sent me a picture of Alison's arm - at least I think it was Alison."

"Babe, it was crowded. I took other pictures."

"You did. Did you sit outside the hall when you took them? I'm assuming that tiny dot was Alison on stage."

"Don't fight about it!" Alison said, trying to sound like she was kidding. They both turned to look at her, surprised at the harshness of her tone.

"No one is fighting, Noodle." Her father said reaching out and taking her hand. "But Mom and I want to talk to you."

Her mother leaned close, an arm around her shoulders. "Baby, we've talked about those magazines. You can't get caught up in all that nonsense."

"Jason told you." She hung her head moving away from her mother and sitting on the bench at the end of their bed.

"He didn't." Her father said.

They stood side-by-side facing her. This is how she always pictured them in her mind - standing side-by-side, leaning toward each other - usually touching and almost always with their faces turned toward each other and smiling. The complete opposite of those horrible, terrible pictures. Seeing them together she wondered how she could ever have thought they were splitting up. Her father had put an arm around her mother, his hand resting on her hip.

"Ali, you know Dad and I love each other. You can't let some picture in a magazine shake that. You have to trust in what you know to be true. I don't know who took those pictures or even when, but we aren't fighting. But even if we were fighting - It's would just be us working things out. Uncomfortable conversation are part of life, baby, you know that." Her mother's voice was gentle.

"We are committed to each other; to our family, Noodle. Mom and I are determined. We made a decision long before you were ever born - we are in this together for the rest of our lives." Her father added.

"I know but . . ." She struggled suddenly emotional. "Those pictures looked so real! They aren't real?"

"They are of us but I don't know why it looks like it does. I can't think of the last time we had an argument. The camera can catch a million strange looks. You can't let it eat at you, honey. You need to believe what you see, now - not what some camera clicked. You know better than this, honey. Why? Why did it upset you so much?" Her father asked sitting down on the bench beside her.

"It was just a bad week." Alison sighed, shaking her head. "Mom's been gone forever over that trade agreement and school has been so . . .and I didn't hear you guys talking on the phone or anything. You always talk on the phone. I don't know. Things have been so . . And then Tristan gave me that magazine and kept saying . . ." Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.

"Tristan? Who is Tristan?" Her mother sounded angry.

"He's a junior and he's kind of a jerk. It's no big deal."

"He's bothering you?" She could see the muscles in her father's face tense. "Noodle?"

"I can handle it." She said swallowing down tears. "It's nothing to worry about."

"Just because you can handle it, doesn't mean you should." Her mother told her. "Being strong doesn't mean you have to go it alone."

"I know that." She sighed. "But . . . can we talk about that some other time? I'm just so . . ." She had to draw in a breath. "I was so worried and I couldn't sleep or . . ." Embarrassed, she ducked her head. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm acting like a baby. I just couldn't manage if you split up. I really couldn't." She covered her face with her hands unable to stop herself from crying. Her mother was beside her instantly and wrapped her arms around her. She wept into her mother's shoulder, as her father rubbed gentle circles on her back. She was deeply comforted to be held in her parents arms.

After a while her father spoke, "Noodle, first of all,nothing is going to happen that you are going to read about in the paper first. We talk about things, honey. You know this. And as for your mom and me, you know she's everything. I love her with all my heart, I do. I promise you. And I wouldn't be able to walk away; never."

She sat back, wiping her face and glancing from her mother then to her father. " I know it - in my head but everything has been so crazy since, since . . ."

"You can say it." Her mother said softly, running a hand over her cheek.

"Since you came back from Iran and then worrying about prison." She exhaled. "It just felt like so much bad stuff could happen because so much bad stuff _did_ happen."

"But Noodle, what's the number one rule of relationships? Come on, sweetheart, we taught you this." Her father nudged her shoulder. "Number one rule?"

"Communication." She said with a tired sigh.

"Communication." He repeated. "That's right. If you want to know if Mom and I are splitting up, you ask us. You don't spend days not eating or sleeping, or listening to some creep like Tristan. You talk to us. Okay?"

"Okay." She agreed. Her father smiled at her and she couldn't help but smile back. She rested her head on her mother's shoulder content for the first time in days.

"You and Isla stay up all night?" Her mother asked as she ran her fingers through Alison's hair.

"Pretty much."

"Well, Mom was just going to take a nap." Her father said.

"Henry." Her mother protested.

"Elizabeth." He mocked. "Now, that we've established names, why don't you and Noodle climb into bed and watch a movie about puppies or vampires or something?"

"Vampire puppies?" Her mother asked. "What do you say Noodle?"

"A classic must see." She smiled up at her father who winked at her.

She spent the afternoon with her mom. They settled on a classic "An Affair to Remember". She loved that movie but honestly, it could've been Newshour or Talking Points or even an episode of Book Talks - just as long as her mom was beside her.

***MS***

Jason McCord wiped the sweat from his brow and tried to determine if his dad was as tired as he was. The last thing he wanted to do was be the first one to wimp out. He dribbled the ball, one eye on his dad.

"Ready?"

"Sure." His father shifted from one foot to the other. "Let's go. . . unless, _you_ are tired?" His father challenged.

"No, but if you are, that's cool." He offered, with a nonchalant shrug, secretly praying his Dad would say he was tired. His father laughed out loud.

"Listen, I was gonna talk to you later, but if you don't mind quitting now. There's something I want to ask you about."

"Sure." He followed his Dad inside the house, pulling a Gatorade out of the fridge before settling on the couch. His dad followed him, Gatorade in hand and sat across from him on the edge of the coffee table.

"If it's about the magazine - that was Ali. She's crazy. I told her. You guys have your issues but splitting up isn't one of them."

"We talked to her, but I'm glad you weren't worried."

"You wouldn't last two days without mom." Jason scoffed.

"I don't know . . ."

"Seriously, Dad. She works late and you wander around the house like an old man lost in a grocery store. It is pathetic!"

"Are you saying that makes me less of a man? Jason that's sexist! Of course I'd be devastated without your mom. I mean that's the whole point of being married. C'mon son, think it through."

"God! Why you gotta make a big deal outta everything. I was just joking." Jason said, surprised by his father's strong reaction.

"Well, there are some inherent issues in the joke - ones that imply . . ." He paused, rubbing a hand over his face. "I'm getting side-tracked. I guess I'm just touchy about it. Your mom nearly . . . Never mind."

"So . . . Ali's okay?" Jason felt confused.

"Yeah." His father said. "She's better. Thanks for helping out."

Jason said nothing. He shrugged his shoulders as he took a sip of Gatorade. "What'd you wanna talk about?"

"Tristan."

"Oh!" Jason felt a sudden rush of anger but immediately suppressed it. He tilted his head sideways, studying his father's face. "What did Ali say?"

"Uh uh." His father shook his head. "None of that. Talk."

"Dad . . ."

"Tristan."

"Dad, you should talk to Ali. She's the one who sees him. I don't even go to school there anymore."

"I did talk to her. Now, I am talking to you. So talk." His father kept his dark eyes steady on Jason, and he sighed frustrated. It was clear his father was determined.

"He's a prick, Dad. He teased her the first day. He's rich, popular and cruel. You know, just a regular kid at that place."

"Teased her, how?"

"First, he kept asking her out, but she's smart. She knew he was just trying to get in the limelight or whatever. She wouldn't go out with him - not even just to get him to quit bugging her."

"And then?"

"Then he decided to drop the Prince Charming act and just be a jerk."

"Jason, stop being vague."

"I don't know, Dad." He sighed. "I left and she won't talk about it. Stupid stuff. Little comments. He bumps into her - knocks her books down."

"How long has this been going on?" His father rose, angrily. "You knew and didn't say anything?"

"Dad, she wouldn't let me! She didn't want you guys to . . . Things were really . . . She said she had a handle on it. She said she didn't her little brother trying to get involved."

His father sat back, considering things carefully. Jason waited, hoping against hope that his dad would let it go and move on to something else.

"Look, Dad, I talked to him once. I told him to back off or . . . He's a junior and nearly as tall as you. And she said it was fine so, I kept an eye on it for as long as I could. She wouldn't let me talk to you or mom or any teachers."

"He's as tall as me?" Henry McCord's face was white, a tight v-wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows - his tell-tale sign of emotion.

"Yeah." Jason looked down, suddenly ashamed.

"You faced him down?"

"I tried but . . ." He had been terrified.

 _"What McCord? You got something to say?"_

 _"Leave my sister alone!" He waited, trembling, expecting a fist or at the least a tongue lashing. But Tristan had considered him for a long moment before turning away - his entourage and his laughter following in his wake._

"That was brave, Jason. I appreciate it and I'm sure Ali does too, but the two of you need to come to us. Between Tristan and that article - it seems like she's been carrying a lot of stress."

"Nothing compared to seeing clips on TV of the house where your mom got blown up or waiting to find out if she's going to prison for telling the goddamn truth." Jason's voice was bitter and angry.

"Hey, bud, easy man."

"Easy?" Jason rose up suddenly. "Not one damn thing has been easy since we left the farm."

Henry sat frozen and stunned as Jason stormed angrily upstairs.

***MS***

Henry McCord might have been a successful spy, but he was a dismal failure at keeping secrets from his wife. He tried to hide his worry over Jason. His son's sudden outburst had unsettled him. The wellspring of bitter anger that lay hidden in his son's heart wounded him deeply. It made him question his sense of security. He had believed that the whole family was slowly recovering from the terrors of Elizabeth's trip to Iran, but now he wondered, were they all simply hiding their hurts? He knew he had his own secret wounds and rages. He hadn't shared them with anyone - couldn't even share them with Elizabeth. Did that explain his dark look in the magazine?

"Here's what I'm thinking." Elizabeth's voice startled him, pulling him away from his worried thoughts.

"Hmm?" He looked up from where he sat his desk.

"You can spend the rest of the evening staring at that screen _pretending_ to write or you can walk me over to that coffee shop."

"I thought we were going to play cards?"

"Ali wants to finish her math first. So? What'd you say, McCord?"

"Did you talk to Fre . . .ank." He caught himself but not in time. Her face grew pale and her smile faded. She swallowed hard before responding.

"Yeah." Her voice was quieter. "They know."

"I'm sorry . . ."

"Get your coat." She interrupted. "My caffeine level is nearly depleted."

They walked together, her fingers laced through his. If he didn't look too far ahead, he could pretend it was just the two of them, but in truth they walked at the center of a fortress. Her security all around them.

"So are you gonna tell me?" She asked him.

"Tell you what?" He evaded.

"Henry." She rolled her eyes at him, and he sighed loudly. "Henry!" She repeated more forcefully.

"I dunno, babe. It's okay. The article made him nervous." He hedged. "Did Ali talk to you at all?"

"Not about anything important. But she seemed okay, Henry. I just wish they wouldn't get sucked into all that. I wish they understood - it's a trick; a manipulation."

"I don't know." He admitted. " _I_ look at that photo and wonder. And I was there! I wish I could remember what we were talking about. It bugs me. I look mad."

"You weren't mad at me, Henry. God! Don't get sucked into the craziness. It isn't real! We know what is true. You know it isn't true!" She squeezed his fingers reassuringly.

"I do." He agreed. "I just . . . I hate that they can pick our lives apart like that. I hate that they can make the kids doubt - that they can get inside _my_ head!"

"I'm sorry, Henry. I really am."

"What are you sorry for?" He furrowed his brows at her.

"This is my mess."

He stopped walking. "What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what that means. Babe, I shouldn't have . . ."

"Elizabeth, we already talked this through. You and your doctor talked this through. Nothing that happened was your fault. Stop . ." He paused, recognizing that he was raising his voice in frustration.

"Listen, let's not . . . We aren't gonna agree on this."

"Baby, none of this is your fault." He stepped closer to her, protectively.

"I know. You are right. We've talked about it and I get that, Henry. I do. At least on an intellectual level, I get it. But you and I both know, my going to Iran screwed things up. It messed up a lot of things."

"See, this is why . . ." He felt suddenly furious. "Elizabeth, I can't even begin to . . ." A flash of light caught the corner of his eye. "Damn it! They're probably snapping pictures of us right now!"

"Henry, calm down." She lay a hand on his chest. "Come on. Buy me a coffee but I think you better stick with herbal tea." She smiled up at him, and he had to smile back - could never resist.

Later, sitting at a small table in the empty back patio of the coffee house, she watched him with piercing blue eyes.

"The problem is that they are on edge. All the mess - not just with Iran but Juliet and the hearing - they feel unsure. Their world get flipped around, again. They could manage the new job and the move, but finding out their . . . Juliet was at the center of a coup and that I . . ."

"Stop." He said reaching across the table for her hand. "You need to breathe."

"I'm just saying. They feel unsettled."

"Were you listening when Jason and I were talking?" He shook his head. "No tradecraft in the house. That's your rule, honey."

"Except on the kids. That was your amendment, babe." She sat back in her chair. "We've got three problems: the press, Tristan and buried stress."

"I can take care of Tristan. Scratch that off the list." He told her.

"Henry. . ."

"I'm serious, babe. Some little punk is gonna bully our little . . ."

"She's sixteen, Henry. And a woman has to learn to speak. She's got to find her voice. You think I haven't faced my share of Tristans?"

"But she doesn't speak for herself."

"She _has_ to learn. Some jerk is always going to be pushy or rude! Some guy is always gonna 'accidentally' fall into you with their hands out."

"What?!" Henry's voice rose in pitch.

"It happens." She put a hand on his arm. "She's got to decide if she's the kind of woman who puts up with it or does something about it. You have to choose. Everyday."

"Or," He offered. "I could introduce him to the Marine Corps."

"Henry . . ."

"Hey! _I'm_ not the one who was digging around in the hall closet looking for a baseball bat when that girl . . .um . . .what was her name?"

"Rebecca."

"That's right - when that girl, Rebecca made Jason cry. That was all you."

"I was kidding."

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Mostly, I was kidding." She sighed. "We should get home. God knows what they'll think if we aren't back!"

He reached across the table and ran a hand over the side of her face, his fingers soft and gentle. "I love you." He said, surprising her.

"Henry. . ." Her eyes filled with sudden tears.

"You didn't mess things up, sweetheart." His voice was soft. "You didn't. We are okay."

"I don't want to . . ."

"Babe, you trust me, right?"

"Of course."

"Well, trust me, then. You didn't mess things up. We can figure all of this out." He leaned in closer. "We're both professors! You're practically the poster child for Mensa! We can figure this out."

She nodded her head and smiled. She rose, holding her hand out to him.

"Come on professor, let's see if we can solve this domestic crisis."

Laughing he took her hand, lifting her fingers to his lips for a quick kiss. "Foreign and domestic peacemaker? Elizabeth McCord, the Ultimate Diplomat!"


	3. Chapter 3

Jason McCord hesitated a brief second before playing his next card. He was fairly certain that his combination of "Iron Man" with a "mad scientist side-kick" would be unbeatable. He knew it would stand up to Alison's "Martha Stewart" with a "tyrannosaurus on a stick". He laid the cards on the table.

"And feel the sting of defeat." He grinned at her.

"No. No way. Martha Stewart could easily take out Iron Man." Alison argued.

"What are you nuts? Nothing beats Iron Man!" He declared.

"Martha Stewart does." Alison declared.

Stevie laughed out loud. "Right! Iron man against a Connecticut cook? I don't think so."

"No, it's still a guy inside the suit. She could definitely make some sort of mad food or cocktail and he'd be sitting down to the table when, WHAM! She hits him with the tyrannosaurus on a stick." She was laughing even as she said it. The image of a polite dinner suddenly interrupted by a crazed Martha Stewart wielding a dinosaur, too much for all of them. They laughed loudly.

It was as this was going on that she noticed a slight clicking sound. It was distant and familiar. She glance up behind the table to find her father poised halfway down the stairs, camera in hand. He was snapping away - taking pictures. She lifted a hand, completely annoyed.

"Dad! Knock it off!" She said, and they all turned to face him. Stevie began to complain as well, but Jason decided to go ahead and pose.

"Over here!" Her mother stepped out of the doorway that separated the kitchen from the front of the house. "McCords!" She called out. "Look, this way!" She also held a camera, and was clicking away.

"Mom!" Stevie moaned. "Have you completely lost your mind?"

"Smile!" Her mother responded. "C'mon! Just one more shot. Don't be mean. I just want a picture."

Alison McCord felt all happiness drain away. They'd faced a gauntlet of reporters ever since her mother's testimony, and it always stressed her out. She felt frustrated, angry tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She ducked her head and scooted closer to Stevie.

Both parents snapped a few more pictures and then their mother set the camera on the kitchen counter and sat back down at the table.

"Who's turn?" She asked, as though an onslaught of photography were a normal occurrence.

"Mom, seriously." Jason asked, clearly irritated. "What is going on?"

"Nothing." Her mother said innocently. "Just a few pictures."

"Mom, you are being kind of . . ." Stevie began but was unable to finish the sentence. She put a hand on her younger sister's arm.

"Just practice for when we leave the house." Her mother offered, not meeting their eyes but straightening her cards. "The press is out there, you know."

"We're pretty familiar." Stevie said her voice angry.

"You guys are being jerks." Jason said angrily, pushing his chair back from the table. "So, what? Are you picking on us because we don't like it? Are you making fun of Alison for being upset? Is that the point?"

"No. Don't talk to your mother like that." His father said. He'd come down the stairs, setting his camera down. "We wouldn't do that. Sit down."

Jason complied, huffing angrily. He glanced over at Alison, who had kept her head down.

"Ali," Elizabeth said gently. She reached across the table, reaching for her daughter's arm. "Alison, look at me."

"I think I forgot to do some of my homework." Alison said without looking up. "I probably should . . ." She started to rise, but her mother held her arm.

"Noodle, we would _never_ make fun of you - especially about something that hurt you so much." Her father said to her. "Sit down. Let mom and I explain."

She said nothing, but sat back down. The room remained silent for another long minute, suddenly tense. Stevie glanced at her parents.

"Why would you do that? We get enough of that these days. They don't need it in their own kitchen!" She glanced at her siblings.

"We wanted you to understand something. The pictures they take are a manipulation of events. They aren't real." Their mother leaned forward in earnestness. "I'm sorry that it was hurtful. I didn't think about how it would make you feel. I would never make fun of you like that. I am very sorry. We were just trying to show how . . .I'm sorry." She glanced at Jason who nodded his head slightly. "Alison, I'm apologizing."

Her daughter said nothing, but also nodded her head. She still kept her eyes down, but reached out with a hand and patted her mother's hand which still kept a gentle touch on her arm.

"Thank you." Her mother said, rising up out of her seat and kissing Alison's forehead before sitting back down. She released Alison's arm with a squeeze and glanced over at Henry.

"Okay." Henry said, nodding his head at her. "We were all here. We all know what was going on when your mom and I ambushed you, right?"

"Henry, I don't think we should . . ." She interrupted him.

"No, babe. C'mon. It will be fine." He looked around the table at his children. "Look, you were all laughing and having a great time when we took those pictures. Mom and I were just . . ."

"Dad, enough! Stop it! I don't think . . ." Stevie began, but her father lifted his hand interrupting her.

"No, you are right. Never mind." He paused, sounding uncharacteristically unsure. "You guys get back to your game. I just need to finish up some notes. I'll be in my office" But he winked at his wife, pausing to put a hand on her shoulder as he passed through the kitchen out to his office, taking the cameras with him.

The game resumed but had lost it's joyous edge, and it wasn't too much longer after that, the kids slipped away - hibernating in their rooms.

***MS***

Elizabeth McCord leaned over her husband's shoulder studying the computer screen. "How is it going?"

He shrugged not responding at first. "I'm nearly finished." He glanced at her, pausing to study her face.

"Are you sure you were ever a spy? A real one, I mean?" He asked. He turned his chair so he was facing her, and reaching out, clasped her hand in his. "Because, babe, I can see every emotion on that face."

"I feel like a jerk." She said looking down at their hands. "I didn't think about how they would react when we . . ." She sighed, and moved to sit on his lap. He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her cheek as she settled against him.

"It's just because we haven't explained it yet." He kept her snuggly against him. "Babe, it will be fine. Better they stress a little now and really understand than suffer every time a new issue of People comes out."

"You're right." She sighed. "I know. You are right."

"It will be fine. I'll finish this up and then we'll have family home movies, right? ' _We emerge into light not by avoiding pain, but by walking through it.'_ " His fingers passed gently back and forth over her back. "Elizabeth?" He said when she remained silent.

"No." She said still holding to him. "I'm fine. You are right. I was just . . ." She sat back smiling at him. "I was enjoying being comforted." She blushed slightly, and he tilted his head back in laughter.

"Go away, you." He teased, pushing her off his lap. "I've got work to do." She moved away from him, but even as she did, he caught her hand in his - giving one last reassuring squeeze before turning back to face his computer.

***MS***

"If this is another family meeting where you give us really terrible news, I'm over it." Jason said as he slumped into the couch.

"Way to be supportive." His father said frowning at him.

"You've got to admit, though, Dad. These family meetings almost never end with a trip to Disneyland." Alison said sitting beside her brother.

"You want us to take Jason to Disneyland?" Her mother asked. "You want to listen to his diatribe against the mouse while standing in front of a giant castle?"

"FAKE castle." Jason interjected.

Alison said nothing, but just rolled her eyes as Stevie sat down beside her. Henry McCord stood in front of them beside the tv that sat on their bookshelf. Elizabeth stood on the other side.

"So, we wanted to show you something because it is really important that you guys - that none of us get sucked into nonsense with the press, okay?"

"Dad, you don't have to . . ." Alison began. "It's fine. I'm fine. It was just a momentary . . ."

"It's not like we don't know that sometimes you guys don't agree on things." Stevie said. "It was just weird for them to see it in a magazine."

"I really appreciate the way you defend them, Stevie. I really do." Her mother said earnestly. "But Dad and I weren't arguing in those pictures."

"I thought you couldn't remember what you were talking about." Alison asked.

"Let me show you, okay?" Her father responded.

He turned and clicked on the tv and a series of photographs flashed across the screen. The first of Jason, his face seemingly dark with anger. This was followed by a picture of Alison, her eyes bright with what appeared to be tears.

"These are the pictures you took?" Alison asked wonderingly. "But we were laughing."

"You were. We were all here. We know what happened but Dad and I shot hundreds of pictures in just a few minutes. We caught every move you made." Her mother said gently.

"And I culled through them and found just the right ones. It wasn't hard. You set the camera on burst and it takes pictures by the second. Think of that. Every blink and every twitch! Look how easy it was for me to find a few that make it look like the three of you were upset or fighting!"

Alison rose and moved closer to the tv screen as the images flashed in a loop. She studied Stevie's face blown up on the tv - a hand raised toward her younger sister. A look of anger and disgust on her face.

"So you and Mom were probably having just an ordinary conversation?" Alison asked.

"Yes." Her mother said, putting an arm around her shoulders. "We don't remember the conversation because it was probably about your soccer tournament, and repairs on the farm, or what state dinner I was going to drag your poor father to next. It was just an ordinary day with an ordinary conversation."

"I don't remember what we talked about at all Noodle, but I did remember one thing." Both his wife and daughter looked up at him. "I kissed your mom for a long time before she went back to work. I remember that. There was a new agent watching her and when I stopped kissing your mom, I glanced up and saw that the new Agent, um . . .I forgot her name, babe?"

"Amy." Elizabeth McCord added.

"Amy! That's right! Amy was blushing." He explained. "She wasn't turned away like the rest of them, and your mom and I laughed about it."

"That's right!" Elizabeth said, remembering. "I remember now. It was after that exhibition game you had, Noodle! Dad was telling me how that one girl fouled you four times and the ref never called it once."

"I _was_ mad about that." Henry said, laughing.

"I feel dumb now." Alison said sitting back down on the couch between her brother and sister. "I don't know why I got so upset."

"Things have been kind of intense." Stevie said to her. "It wasn't dumb. You saw those pictures and mom hadn't been home. It was bad timing."

"Your sister is right, honey." Their father said. "But you should have come to me, as soon as you felt nervous about things. Mom and I wouldn't keep that kind of secret from you - not if you asked me directly."

"That's not true." Jason said. "You keep tons of secrets from us. I mean it isn't like you tell us everything. It isn't like Mom said, 'Okay, kids, I'm off to Iran and I might be dead soon. Bye.'"

"Jason!" Stevie yelled. "Dude, don't be a jackass!"

"Son, that's enough." His father said sternly.

"No," Elizabeth sighed, her shoulders sagging. "I mean, he's right, Henry. I didn't. And I wouldn't, Jason - not ever. If something like that were going down, you are right. I wouldn't tell you guys."

"Yeah." He nodded his head.

"You want to sit and worry for hours like Dad, did?" Alison turned to her brother. "C'mon man, that's just dumb. Of course, she didn't tell us!"

"I'm just saying," Jason said with hand outstretched toward his older sister. "They are telling us to ask them, but they won't always tell the truth." He turned to face his parents. "Will you?"

Henry McCord looked over at his wife who was uncharacteristically silent. He paused thoughtfully, recognizing the truth of his son's words. He began hesitantly at first, his voice unsure.

"Sometimes you have to choose between a bunch of wrong choices and no right ones. You just have to choose which wrong choices feels the least wrong."

"So, you _would_ lie to us?" Alison's eyes grew wide. "But you tell me to come to you with questions?"

"Noodle," Henry found himself at a loss for words.

"Honey, it was your sixteenth birthday and I was scared. Dad was scared. No good would have come from you knowing that." His mother explained. "But the important things - the things I can control - we don't keep those from you. We talked about me taking this job and moving, didn't we?"

"Yeah, and I rethought my vote." Jason said bitterly.

"Jason, knock it off. You aren't helping." Henry McCord's voice was stern.

"No, Henry. He should be able to tell us how he feels." She moved closer to Jason, and knelt in front of him. "Knowing what we know now, I would change my vote too, sweetheart. I would."

"You regret becoming Secretary of State?" Stevie's eyes were wide. "But Mom. . ."

"No. It isn't as simple as that." She sighed and moved to sit in the arm of the couch, one hand on Jason's shoulder.

"If Mom wasn't the Secretary of State, we'd be at war with Iran." Henry McCord explained.

"You can't know that for a fact." She protested.

"No, way, Elizabeth. You can't ignore facts. You had the background to uncover the death of Vincent Marsh and the coup. _You_ did. There's no one else who's got your connections and expertise."

"And stubbornness." Stevie added with a grin.

"It is hard to imagine things a different than they are." Ali said thoughtfully. "You don't really regret it, do you Mom?"

"I regret the impact of it." She said, considering her words carefully. "I regret bringing so much worry and pain to your Dad, and to all of you. I regret . . ." She paused to draw in a deep breath, her voice breaking. "I regret that it has hurt us all."

"Babe," They all turned to look at their father, whose eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Don't . . ."

"No, Henry. You'd defend me to your dying breath, but it is just the truth. I didn't want it, and didn't really intend it, but it has hurt everyone."

"Including you." Alison said softly, reaching out for her mother's hand.

"So," Her mother cleared her throat, her voice gaining strength as she spoke. "The important thing to remember is that this house is still together. Me being in the public eye - and dragging all of you with me - doesn't change that."

"We're Team McCord." Stevie offered with a smile.

"That's right." Henry McCord said. "Team McCord for life."

"Oh, God!" Jason moaned. "This is turning into some sappy Hallmark movie of the week! We get it, okay. Everyone loves everyone. Can we please go back to skulking in our bedrooms bemoaning our fate as political offspring?"

"No group hug?" Alison teased.

"Listen," Jason rose, untangling himself from his mother who had wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "You should know that you and Dad have been ruining my life _long_ before you ever dragged me to DC. I mean, do you even remember that time you chaperoned my 5th grade dance? NONE of the other parents danced! None! And you slow-danced together! You want to talk about causing pain!" He shook his head, and headed into the kitchen immediately opening the refrigerator. "Come on, Nerds." He said over his shoulder to his sisters. "Alison is under the mistaken impression that she won the game. Grab the cards Stevie, and we will show her."

Elizabeth McCord slumped down into the couch, one arm covering her face. She stretched out, one leg crossed over the other. Henry moved to the couch, gently moving her legs aside as he sat.

"Well, that was a light-hearted evening." He remarked.

"It feels like it is four a.m." Her voice was muffled, her arm still covering her face.

"Nah, hardly nine, yet." His hand rested on her knee.

"Next time you come up with a brilliant plan to explain things to them, keep me out of it."

"Well, I did want to talk to you about the Tristan situation." He said laughing, as she lifted her arm to peer at him angrily.

"Seriously?" She asked. "I'm too . . ."

He reached out pulling gently on her arm, so that she sat up. He pulled her into his arms. "Quit trying to hide, baby. _I_ know you are crying. _They_ know you are crying." He thumbed behind him at the table where their three children were engaged in a very noisy card game. "Just go ahead, and cry."

She said nothing, but buried her face into his shoulder clinging tightly to him. He whispered softly into her hair waiting for her tears to subside.

"Dad!" Stevie called from just behind him. "You and Mom want in the next round? Jason claims that he will be forever undefeated."

"I don't think, so sweetie." He said, but his wife immediately sat up, wiping the tears from her face.

"Deal us in, Stevie." She rose, glancing down at her husband. "You ever known me to back down from a challenge?"

He smiled up at her, reaching for her hand as he rose to follow her into the kitchen. "Not one time, babe. Not ever."


	4. Chapter 4

Alison hesitated just outside Stevie's bedroom door. She had spent a great deal of time trying to come up with some sort of plan, but wasn't sure how to pull it off. Stevie was the one McCord she knew that she could count on to help her without involving her ever watchful parents. Drawing in a strengthening breath, she knocked on her sister's door.

"What's up, nerd?" Stevie said opening the door. "You are knocking now?"

"I, uh, I was . . ." She suddenly felt nervous.

"What is the matter?" Stevie said, all teasing disappearing from her tone. "You okay?"

"Well, I need some help." She leaned against the doorway, studying her shoe nervously.

"Mom trouble or boy trouble?" Stevie asked with a raised eyebrow.

"A little of both." Alison confessed with a shy grin.

"Ah! Been there. Come on in to my office!" Stevie said with a laugh. "I shall impart upon you all of my wisdom."

***MS***

Elizabeth McCord glanced over at her husband. They were both seated at their desks in the office they shared at home. Truth be told, she wasn't getting as much work done as she ought, she kept stealing glances at him. He was ridiculously adorable when lost inside an old book.

"I can't concentrate, when you do that." He said without looking up.

"Do what?"

"Stare at me." He leaned back in his chair, and removing his glasses, looked up at her.

"Well, it isn't my fault you are so attractive." She winked at him.

"You ought to have some self-control, babe. I mean," He placed a hand flat against his chest. "I understand that I am deadly sexy, but don't you have to keep the world safe for democracy?"

"You are so stuck up." She laughed at him. Rising she crossed the room, and he turned his chair, pulling her down to sit on his lap.

"I am not. You just said I was beautiful. I'm just restating your words."

She rolled her eyes at him laughing. "Let's do something fun today. I don't want to spend the whole day, stuck in here answering five hundred ridiculous emails."

"I know something fun we can do." He said softly, his fingers tracing small circles on her back. He leaned in closer, kissing her cheek.

"Later, babe. I meant something with the kids. I wanna go out and do something. Just us. Like we are normal."

"Baby doll, we've never been normal." He laughed. "You really want to go out?"

"Yes. There's a street fair over in Alexandra or I don't know, maybe we could go for a hike or something."

"Okay." He hesitated a moment, considering thoughtfully. "I'll talk to Frank, and see what we can do." He moved to go, but instead of getting out of his way, she sank deeper into his arms, resting her head against his shoulder.

"Never mind." Her voice was soft and sad. "It would be too much trouble."

He pushed himself back and away from her, so that he could see her face. "No." His voice was stern. "No. That's not what we said. Elizabeth, we aren't going to put our lives on hold just because it might be inconvenient for others."

"Henry, it's gonna be a big deal and . . ."

"So what! C'mon, babe! This isn't like you." He admonished her.

"I know but . . ." She paused and slid off his lap, and stood next to the edge of the desk. "I just wanted to . . ."

"Hey," He leaned forward, catching her hand in his. "Elizabeth, do you want to go out today?"

"Yes, but . . ."

"So we got out." He squeezed her fingers, rising to stand in front of her. He reached out with soft fingers, and brushed the hair behind her ear, leaning close to kiss her cheek. "Street fair first?"

She nodded her head, saying nothing, her head low. He reached forward lifting her chin. "Good. And then a nice hike. I'll tell Frank. You tell the kids." He kissed her, and squeezing her shoulders turned to head out front to talk to Diplomatic Services.

"Henry," She called softly, and he turned from where he stood in the doorway to look at her.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Thank you." She smiled at him shyly, and he blushed even as he grinned back.

"Sure thing, babe." He winked at her. "Just remember, your fun plans during the day, but tonight it's my turn."

"That's a deal." She said as color spread over her cheeks.

"Woo! Alright!" Jason's sudden shouts caused them both to turn toward the family room where he sat on the couch in front of the tv. "Alright! Yes!"

"What is going on?" His mother asked.

"Well, I shut off the game and of course the tv was on CNN." He pointed at the screen. "Look at that!" He grinned happily at the tv.

They turned their attention to the reporter who was saying, ". . . and while the senator has no explanation for the photographs, he has confirmed that the children in question are, in fact, his. His wife had no comment, nor did the woman in question."

"Why are you so . . ." She asked her son.

"Look at that! I mean," He paused, suddenly serious. "I feel bad because it would totally suck to be him and his family. But look! He's swarmed by press!"

"Oh, Jason." She said disapprovingly. "That isn't very kind."

"Well," Her husband said, gesturing at the tv screen. "Oh the other hand, I see about seventy reporters who will be leaving us alone." He laughed.

"I thought you were a man of God and all about kindness and forgiveness?" She said shaking her head at him.

"Well," He offered with a shrug. "I'm still a man, darlin', and somewhat flawed." He grinned at Jason. "And the kid's got a point. I feel bad for the man, but look at all those reporters who won't be following us around today." He reached out squeezing Jason's shoulder. "Go get your sisters, bud. We are going out." He winked at his wife, and left the room to make sure the security team was ready for a McCord Family Outing.

***MS***

"Hey, McCord!" Tristan called to her from across the crowded school hallway. "You and Mommy have a good time shopping, yesterday?"

Alison ducked her head, drawing in a deep breath and trying to remember all the things Stevie had told her. She nearly whispered out loud to herself, "You can do this!" She shut her locker decisively and crossed the hallway to where Tristan stood.

"Hey, Tristan." She kept her voice kind and friendly.

"Well, the great and mighty Alison McCord has decided to lower herself and speak to me. Is it my birthday?" He laughed glancing around him.

"I wanted to talk to you about . . ." But before she finished the sentence, a bell rang. She looked around nervously. "I've got to get to Mr. Miller's class. Can you meet me after school?"

"Really?" He asked her.

"I don't want to be late. Yes or no?"

"Sure, whatever. By the gym?"

"No, I'm supposed to help with sets in the auditorium. Can you meet me there?"

"I guess." He shook his head. "It's a good thing you are pretty. You are weird, McCord."

"See you later," She turned to run to class, pausing just long enough to send a text to her sister once she was out of his sight.

_Done. He's meeting me at 3._

_ GOOD! You sure you don't want me there?_

_ No, I need to handle it myself _

_ Okay, but watch out. _

_ Thanks_

_ Text me after and I'll pick you up _

She was late for class, and Mr. Miller frowned at her as she slid into her seat. She found it difficult to concentrate, which was a shame because she loved his class. They had just finished reading a French translation of _Antigone_. She hoped she could prove to be as brave and defiant as Oedipus' headstrong daughter. She was lost in thoughts about the girl who dared stand alone against the wishes of the King and of her family - seeing the connections with her own mother - who defied everyone around her to ensure the safety of the world. She hoped standing up to Tristan would bring her a step closer to being as bold as mother.

"Miss McCord?" She looked up surprised to see Mr. Miller standing in front of her. Glancing around she discovered she was alone.

"Oh, sorry. I was just thinking . . ."

"A dangerous activity."

"Yes, sir. It sure was dangerous for Antigone. But I was thinking, do you think she worried about defying everyone? Do you think she worried she was being mean?"

Her teacher blinked in surprise. "I don't know. The play doesn't say. I think she was focused on the greater good - her boldness was a result of her focusing on something bigger than the people directly in front of her.

Alison nodded thoughtfully. "She had to do something that people considered wrong, in order to secure a better future? That makes sense. Thanks." She grinned shyly. "I'm sorry for being late today."

"Well, you can make up for it tomorrow. You still are helping with the sets?"

"Yes. You are finishing building them after school today?" She asked as she gathered her books.

"Yes, but you can't help with that. I must toil alone. The district has opinions about students and power tools." He chuckled.

"See you tomorrow, then." She said as she dashed out the door.

***MS***

Stevie flopped on the couch, dropping her book bag at her feet. She looked up surprised to see her father home.

"Rough day?" He asked her.

"No, boring, and filled with too many papers. Maybe going back to school was a bad idea."

"Maybe." He said agreeably. "I saw a sign that Arby's is hiring." He took a sip of coffee.

"You know, Dad, for someone who teaches ethics, you can be a real jerk, sometimes." She said shaking her head at him, suppressing a grin.

"I know." He agreed. "Want some coffee? I just made some."

"Sure. What time is it anyway?" She asked following him into the kitchen.

"2:30." He poured coffee into a cup for her. "Got a date?"

"I was going to pick Ali up today."

"Really? Something going on?" He asked, handing her the cup.

"Uh uh. No spycrafting. Sister solidarity." She said with a smile.

***MS***

Alison stood on the empty stage, waiting. She chewed at the corner of her lip, hoping that Tristan would show up, but also hoping that he wouldn't either. She could hear the faint sound of Mr. Miller working backstage. The door to the auditorium swung open and Tristan strode in.

"All alone in a dark theater with Alison McCord." He said as he stepped up on the stage. "You finally rethinking that date with me?"

"I just wanted to . . .Why do you keep asking me out?" She asked him. "You don't even like me."

"I never said I didn't like you." He flashed a charming grin at her.

"You don't treat me like you do. I don't think you like me at all."

"I like the way you look." He said moving closer, a hand reaching for her hip.

Sidestepping, she continued, "I don't know. I think you like the way we'll look when they print our picture in the paper. I think you like that I am surrounded by press."

"Ah, come on! Why do you have to be such a baby? We go out. The press takes our pictures and then, who knows, maybe you fall in love with me." He sighed. "Why did you ask me here anyway?"

"But why do you keep asking me out? We aren't even friends."

"Listen, I don't want to get into a big thing . . ." He began.

"What's my favorite class in school? Do I like football or basketball?" She stepped closer to him.

"I don't know. You like soccer, I guess. You play it. I saw you in those little shorts." He flashed a wolfish smile at her.

"Do I root for Barcelona? What's my favorite team?"

"Jesus, McCord! I don't know. I don't care. It's just a date."

"You don't know anything about me. You don't like me. You just want your picture in the paper."

"So, what's wrong with that? Maybe we'll go out and you will like me. It is just a date. This is why people don't like you. You gotta bitch about everything and make it a big deal." He sighed.

"Why are you always teasing me, and reading up on what my Mom is doing? Why'd you show me that article about my parents?"

"Oh, for Christ's sake! That was a joke."

"Yeah, the possible destruction of my parents' marriage is down right hilarious." She stood with one hand on her hip studying him. "Why are you so mean?"

"Why are you so stuck up? You and that stupid little brother! You think you are better than everyone. You won't go to any parties or go out with me! What's _your_ problem?"

"I can't go to those parties! If you had any sense you could see that!" She sighed frustrated.

"You are too good for us? You come in acting like you are so superior!"

"Oh, God. I can't imagine I was every scared of you. Tristan, you are a complete and utter moron. I can't go to any parties because if one stupid kid brings alcohol and I'm there it will be all over the papers. One of your jackass friends decides to light a doobie, and my family will be _hounded_ by the press for months afterward!"

"Poor little, spoiled girl going to balls at the White House." He said bitterly.

"Alright. That's enough." She said sharply. "So here's the deal, Tristan. You are going to leave me alone. You are going to stop pushing me, knocking my books out of my hands, and teasing me in front of everyone. You are going to mind your own business and leave me alone."

"This," He said angrily "Is my school. I'll do whatever the hell I want, McCord."

"And if you accidently grab my boob one more time, I am going to leave you writhing on the floor in anguish. My Dad taught me some pretty serious moves, Tristan. I'm not joking. And then, I'm going to go home and tell my father _everything_ you've done to me. And he might seem like a calm and quiet guy but he is a combat veteran and retired Marine, and he will break his foot off in your backside."

"No." He stepped closer, leaning down intimidatingly. "Here's what's gonna happen. You walk away and don't go out with me, and I am going to tell everyone in this whole goddamn school that you met me here all by your lonesome, and slept with me. Hell, I'm gonna tell them that my buddies Paul and Jackson, stopped by for a little bit too. And there's no one here but you and me right now, genius." He reached out and grabbed hold of her arm, his fingers in a tight grip.

"Get your hands off her, Tristan." Mr. Miller stepped out from backstage with a hammer in his left hand. "Step back and away from her right now."

"What are you doing here?" Tristan released her arm. "I didn't . . ." He turned toward Alison, enraged. "Why you little whore!" He raised a hand to slap her, but Mr. Miller dropped the hammer in his hand, and stepped between the two of them, catching Tristan's arm.

"You just had to make things worse." Mr. Miller said darkly. He turned toward Alison. "You need to go down to the front office, and wait. "Tristan and I will be right there."

"Mr. Miller, I . . ." She opened her mouth, unsure how to explain things.

"It's going to be fine, Alison. We are going to talk to the Dean, okay?"

***MS***

Sitting on the bench outside the school's office, Alison tried to determine precisely where her plan had backfired. She had just wanted someone to hear the way that Tristan spoke to her, and hoped that Mr. Miller would ask Tristan to leave her alone. The last thing she wanted was to have her parents learn about everything. She recognized that she'd let her temper get the better of her. Somehow, facing Tristan down had loosened her tongue and she had no trouble spitting out every angry word. Stevie had told her that it would be smart to write it down first. She should have listened to her sister. Now, not only were her parents going to know about Tristan, but probably the whole school would too.

The sound of footsteps coming up the hall, signaled the arrival of her parents. Her mother and father, flanked by the usual DS agents, were a conspicuous sight, and she was glad that school had been out for over an hour. The last thing she needed was everyone in school watching the McCord entourage. As soon as they saw her, her father let go of her mother's hand and doubled his pace. He dropped to his knee in front of her, his face pale and his jaw in a tight angry line.

"Alison, are you alright?" He asked.

"I'm fine, Dad." She sighed.

"Let me see your arm." He demanded.

"It's okay, Dad."

"Alison, now!" Her eyes grew bright with tears at his angry tone.

"Henry, stop it." Her mother said, sitting beside her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "She thinks you are mad at _her._ "

Alison swallowed hard, blinked back tears. "He's not mad at you, baby." Her mother reassured her, kissing her forehead. "He's furious, but not at you."

"No." Her father reached out with gentle fingers, rubbing the side of her face. "I'm sorry, Noodle. I just . . ." He leaned forward, kissing her forehead. "They said he grabbed your arm, and I . . ." He moved to sit beside her. "Did he hurt you?"

"It's okay." Alison said softly. "I mean, it _isn't_ okay, but having all of this stupid nonsense end is worth a little bruise."

"Can I see?" Her father's voice was gentle. She rolled up her sleeve and both her parents gasped at the dark marks on her arm. She put her sleeve back down. "It's okay. I've got worse during a soccer game."

"Why didn't you say anything to us?" Her mother asked. "Alison, Stevie says he's been harassing you since you started school.

"I don't know. It wasn't a big deal at first. He just kept asking me out, and then he got meaner. I thought if I just ignored it, he would stop. But it just kept getting worse. And then he started shoving every negative article anyone wrote in my face. I guess, I just couldn't deal with it anymore."

"Noodle, you know you can talk to us. We talk all the time." Her father said.

"But things have been so . . . and Mom was . . ." She sighed. "I didn't want to add any stress."

The door to the office opened and Dean Ward stepped out into the hallway. "Dr. and Mrs. McCord." She approached them with a hand outstretched. Alison watched as both her parents hesitated, and then her mother reached over and shook the dean's hand. "I am so grateful you both could come in. I know how busy you are. I thought it best if you were here while we talked to Alison."

They followed her into the office, but Alison hesitated just outside the door. Her father turned back. "Honey?"

"He isn't in there, too, is he?" She asked, hating the babyish sound to her voice.

"No, Noodle. He isn't." He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into a hug. "He's not going to bother you, okay? Everything is going to be okay." She leaned into him, ignoring that she stood in the open doorway of the office - where anyone walking the halls could see her. She didn't care that she could see Dean Ward, and Mr. Miller waiting for her. She buried her head in her father's strong shoulder and wept.

***MS***

"So they kicked his ass out of school?" Jason sat on the end of her bed.

"Made him clean out his locker on the spot." She said taking a bite of the brownie he'd brought up to her room.

"'Bout damn time." He looked up at her. "I should've decked him when I had the chance."

She laughed out loud at this. "Jason, he is twice your size!"

"He's twice your size, too. And you decided your best plan was to have him meet you alone in the school auditorium?"

"We weren't alone. I knew Mr. Miller was working on the sets. I'm not a complete idiot, Jason."

"No. I gotta admit, you are pretty badass. I mean it's like an episode of some cheesy cop show. You got him to confess to everything while a teacher was listening! It's pretty impressive."

She blushed at his compliment, uncomfortable from his unexpected praise. "What are mom and dad talking about?"

"Mostly, Mom is explaining the legal ramifications of Dad murdering Tristan." He told her.

"He wanted me to press charges." She sighed.

"That'd be fun. You think the press would notice?" He asked sarcastically. "Are you going to stay at Westmoreland?"

"I don't know. I have no idea what's going to happen when I go back. There's no way Evangeline is going to happy about having her boyfriend kicked out of school."

"Maybe her boyfriend should stop asking girls out all the time." Jason told her. "I hate that school. I really do. I don't know why you don't?"

"The teachers are really good." She slumped her shoulders ashamed to confess it. "I would have to start over again, if I changed schools. It makes me tired to even think about it. The way everyone stares at you, and the way they whisper. And that was _before_ Mom saved the world from nuclear disaster. I can't imagine starting a new school now."

"I gotta say agreeing to move here was probably the stupidest thing we've ever done. We should've voted against it."

"I bet Dad feels the same way. Mom nearly got killed and then nearly sent to prison. The whole thing sucks." She admitted. "By the time, Mr. Dalton is out of office - assuming he gets reelected, I'll be out out high school. I mean, you really think I'm going to get to do normal things like go to the prom?"

"But if we were back at the farm, we would probably be at war with Iran. And you know Dad would go back to active duty - unless he's too old." Jason said thoughtfully. "That might be worse - him wanting to do something and not being able to. Plus, I can't imagine Mom dealing with Aunt Juliet back at the horse farm."

"I know." She sighed. "I mean, waiting around to find out if Mom was killed in Iran is about as sucky as it gets, but we didn't know any of that when we said yes. And if we had said no . . ."

"Have you checked your instagram?" He asked her. "Has anybody said anything to you."

"I deleted it." She said softly.

"What?"

"Instagram, Facebook, Tumblr and Twitter. I got rid of them all." She said. "It is just too much stress." She looked at her little brother. "I'm off the grid."

He studied her thoughtfully, and then jumped up crossing to her computer at her desk. "Me, too."

"You don't have to, Jason. It was just stressing me out - waiting to see what everyone is going to say about Tristan - about Mom and Dad - about every single thing we do."

"No, you are right. I'm sick of it. The watchers can watch us - but we don't have to watch them." He grinned at her. "McCord Island." He began clicking away at the keys. "You know," He paused and smiled at her. "Without Facebook and Instagram it's not only the Watchers who can't keep an eye on us."

"You are terrible, Jason." She laughed.

"We are going to be the only kids on the planet whose parents can't spy on them through technology." He pushed a button on her computer. "I feel completely liberated!"

***MS***

Elizabeth McCord was not surprised to awake to find herself alone in bed. She sat up looking around the room, but Henry was nowhere to be found. She felt sick to her stomach every time she thought about Alison being teased and harassed each day, and yet saying nothing about it. She felt horrible knowing that when things had gotten truly unbearable for Alison, she had kept silent, too worried about her mother. It seemed that every time, they pulled free of Iran and all that had followed, something dragged them back - and always, always, the weight of guilt was heavy on her shoulders.

Henry had been livid. She hadn't ever seen him filled with such anger. Frank had actually pulled him aside, and explained in no uncertain terms, that the DS agents would not stand idly by if he decided to take any action against Tristan. She had a similar conversation with him after the kids had gone to bed.

"Henry!" She had said as he paced their bedroom. "You've got to calm down!" He had said nothing in response and only paused in his pacing long enough to glare at her.

"He's seventeen years old. He's a jerk." She told him. "But Alison handled it. She's okay. Really. I think she feels empowered. She had a problem, and she found her voice and fixed it."

"He put his hands on her." His voice bristled with barely contained fury. "She's got a bruise on her arm."

"I know." She put a hand on his arm. "I know, but we can't undo that."

It had been a frustrating and pointless conversation. They were both completely rattled by everything. They were meeting with Frank in the morning. Henry wanted more security for all the kids, and she was fighting a strong desire to make sure that their was a DS agent beside them all twenty-four hours a day.

She padded down the hallway and downstairs, expecting to find Henry hunched in front of his computer screen. Instead, she heard voices coming from the kitchen. She paused on the bottom step, listening. Henry say at the kitchen table facing Stevie and Alison.

" . . .I'm not hurt, and I'm not even all that upset about it. I mean I'm more upset that you are upset." Alison was saying.

"She stood up for herself. You should be proud, Dad." Stevie added.

"I am proud. It isn't that. Alison I am always proud of you." Henry said seriously. "I'm just so . . ."

"Dad, there are always jerks. You taught us that. We have to deal with them." Stevie told her father.

"And you taught us how to deal with them. I was just about to kick him and twist his arm like you showed me, but Mr. Miller stepped in." Alison explained. "I was thinking through the steps - just like you taught me. I was ready for it."

"We practiced it last night." Stevie added. "Ali flipped me to the ground four times."

"Stephanie," His voice was sharp again. "You should have talked to us _last_ night. You let your sister . . ."

"I let her handle her own problem. And she did. Ali did great and she is fine." Stevie's voice was equally sharp. They stared each other down in silence.

"Don't be mad at Stevie." Alison pleaded. "She didn't do anything wrong."

"She didn't do anything at all." Henry said.

"Dad, you can't really understand. You've never been a teenage girl."

"I've raised one." He said with eyebrows raised. "And I'm still raising another."

"And they turned out great." Stevie pointed out. "Unless you don't agree?"

"Don't try and twist it around." He rubbed his forehead. "Look, maybe you are right. Maybe I can't understand it completely, but if that's true. You can't understand how it is for me. I get that you are strong independent women. I get that. I'm proud of it, but I can't help that I still see you as the sweetest, little girls whose problems I could always fix. I can't manage that some little twerp can come along and hurt you."

"The world is full of little twerps." Alison said thoughtfully. "And you have to decide every day, what kind of woman you are going to be - are you going to take it, or are you going to do something about it? Are you going to stand up and speak or will you stay silent? You have to choose, every day, right Mom?"

They all turned from where they were sitting around the kitchen table to look at her. She blinked in surprise; she'd been unaware that Alison had seen her.

"You do." She said stepping into the room, and moving to stand beside her husband. She rested a light hand on his shoulder. "They are right, Henry, but he's right, too. It's our job to protect you, Noodle. We just want to keep you safe." She squeezed Henry's shoulder. "And it feels like we didn't get the chance to do that, and you spent all those days suffering."

"Not to mention that bruise on your arm." Henry added.

"I wasn't suffering." Alison rolled her eyes. "He was a daily annoyance. And then it reached a point where it was more than annoying - so I did something about it." She shrugged her shoulders.

Silence settled over the kitchen. It was so quiet that the only sound was the clunky ticking of the old windup clock that had once belonged to Elizabeth's grandfather. It sat on the bookshelf that ran along the wall. Elizabeth focused in on the ticking, finding comfort in its familiar sound.

"Okay." Henry's voice broke the silence, his eyes on Alison.

"Okay?" She asked surprised.

"Yeah, but honey, listen." He rose and put his hands on her shoulders. "You have to promise that you talk to me or mom about something like this. I'm glad that you were able to talk to your sister, but you still should have talked to us."

"You had a lot to think about lately." Stevie said quietly.

"Okay," Elizabeth said. "You are right, but it doesn't change what is important. I don't care if I am lying on the floor from some ridiculous panic attack - I'm your mother FIRST."

"Mom," Alison turned to face her mother. "C'mon."

"Honey," Henry reached out and pulled her close to him, one arm around her shoulders.

"That isn't what I meant, Mom. I know I can come to you no matter what. I know this house is first. But I'm also aware that you and Dad are human, okay?"

"Well, that sucks." Elizabeth said sinking into the chair Henry had vacated.

"We blew our cover." Henry said grinning at her.

"It was probably my cooking. I told you!"

"No, they've seen me play basketball." He shrugged.

"You are right!" Elizabeth agreed. "That was probably what did it."

"Actually," Stevie interrupted. "We've seen you dance."

"What?" Elizabeth exploded. "We are great dancers! Your father is a great dancer!"

The girls laughed at this. "Yeah, _he's_ not the problem, Mom." Alison said laughing.

"What! Henry! Are you listening to this?"

"Sweetheart, we should stay focused on Alison." Henry said reaching down to squeeze her shoulder.

"What is going on?" Jason asked. He stood at the foot of the stairs rubbing his face. "It's two in the morning."

"Nice bed head, dude." Stevie teased. They laughed as he tried to smooth down the pieces of his hair that stuck up all around his head.

"Well, I _was_ sleeping!" He moved into the room. "What are we doing?"

"Making fun of Mom and Dad." Alison said with a wink at her father.

"Oh, well, why didn't you wake me earlier. What have we covered so far? Constant kissing? Mom's inability to follow a recipe?"

"Dancing." Alison offered.

"So we are talking about Mom." Jason said with a nod.

"You are twelve years old! What do you know about dancing?"

"Well, first of all I'm just plain smooth, in general." They all laughed at this but he continued undeterred. "And plus, I'm related to Dad, so . . ."

"Well, Jason we need to talk about that." Henry McCord said laugh.

"Henry!" Elizabeth smacked his arm. "Don't mess with him like that! Trust me, honey, you are definitely your father's son!"

"He's an anarchist, babe! You can't say it like that! He's gonna pick apart your words when his natural paranoia sets in." He turned to Jason. "Trust me, bud. You've got the McCord suave genetics."

"Okay." Jason said his expression somewhat horrified. "Could we change the subject maybe? Much as we all enjoy discussing your adventures in procreation, let's leave the details out of it."

"Jason!" Alison turned to her little brother in shock.

"Oh, yuck! Please!" Stevie protested as Jason raised his hands.

"What? That's what they were saying!" He argued.

"Oh, God!" Elizabeth said rising and wrapping an arm around her husband. "You were right, kids were a terrible idea."

"Remember when they were little and couldn't talk?"

"See that was the mistake." She agreed. "We should never have taught them to talk!"

He said nothing but reaching over to the counter, lifted the remote and the kitchen was filled with music.

"Well, come on. I know how to get them to leave us alone." He winked at his wife, but turned to Alison. "Dance with the old man, kid." He held out his hands and still laughing she stepped into the circle of his arms. "The McCord charm should've kicked in already, bud." He said over her shoulder to Jason. "Take my girl out for a spin."

Laughter filled the kitchen as they danced together. Stevie stood watching until her mother pulled her in and let Jason dance with her instead. Elizabeth leaned against the kitchen counter, a wide smile across her features. She had to fight tears, as her heart was flooded with contentment and relief. Since her return from Iran, she leaned more quickly toward tears, but most often they were the result of joy. She brushed at her blue eyes, a motion that caught Henry's gaze. He raised his eyebrows in question but she shook her head. Alison turned to look at her mother, and paused in the dance. She rested her head against her father's chest but spoke to her mother.

"This is what they never photograph." She said thoughtfully. "They never catch this."

"It doesn't fit the story." Her father said, leaning low to kiss her forehead.

"They don't get to." Elizabeth said. "This belongs to only us." She rose and reached around Alison to put her hands on her husband's shoulders so that they swayed with Alison between them.

***MS***

Later, as Alison crawled back into bed, her mother sat on the edge of her bed. It was nearly 3:30 a.m. by then, and everyone was exhausted.

"You can stay home tomorrow." Elizabeth told her daughter, pulling the covers up to her chin.

"No. I better go. If I don't show up, the rumors will run around like crazy." She said sleepily.

"How is your arm?"

"It really doesn't hurt." She looked up into her mother's blue eyes. "I'm really okay, Mom. I mean it was upsetting and a little bit scary, but I'm okay."

"Okay." Her mother said with a nod. "But if you want to talk about anything, you can come and get me."

"I'm going to fall asleep and it will feel like twenty minutes later when my alarm goes off." She said with a laugh.

"You and me both!" Elizabeth leaned close, and kissed Alison's cheek. "Dad and I are both very proud of you, Noodle. I know it's been a lot, but we are. And if anyone gives you a hard time or you just need to bail tomorrow just text me - 911 that's all you need to send, and I'll come get you."

"Excuse me, Mr. President, my daughter needs a hug?" Alison asked laughing.

"Yes! Baby, any time." She sat back, looking at Ali. "Stevie says you dumped all your social media."

"I did." She had been hoping that this topic could wait for another day.

"You didn't have to do that sweetheart."

"I did, but for me, okay? It didn't really have anything to do with you. I mean, it did. Don't you ever get sick of being watched all the time?"

"I do. Especially when it comes back around to you and your dad. I mean it isn't fair, is it? You should have a normal life." She sighed heavily.

"Mom, it's fine." Ali said laughing. "It would be nice not to be followed by the press, but honestly, people always watch you and dad!"

"What do you mean?"

"Listen, you were the most popular professors at UVA, right? And you were the most popular soccer coach, and you were the lead coordinator of the bake sale, and carnival each year! Mom, everywhere I have ever been people know you and dad, and talk about you with this sort of, I don't know, star struck look in their eyes." Alison smiled up at her mother. "Seriously, look in the mirror, Mom. You and Dad!" She shook her head. "The two of you look like you belong in a magazine! People are always watching us; always."

"I don't think that is . . .really?" She tilted her head considering this. "I mean Dad's really handsome. I get that."

"Both of you. It's completely ridiculous, but it's how it is. If you are a McCord, people are gonna watch, and I'm just . . ." Alison sighed. "Things have been so crazy since the hearings that I just need a break from it. I can't deal with 1,000 fake friend requests because someone want to get to see you guys from my page."

"Okay." Her mother answered softly.

"And you can't be all messed up with guilt about it." Alison added. "Because then I will feel guilty."

"Well, now I feel twice as guilty."

"It's almost 4:00 in the morning!" Henry McCord stood in the doorway of Alison's room. "Noodle, are you having a hard time sleeping?"

"No. Mom won't leave."

"Elizabeth, I know you are going to drag yourself to work in a few hours. Get a little sleep, babe."

"Alison!" Elizabeth said laughing. "You are lucky I'm too tired to get into it."

Alison smiled sweetly, "'Night Mom."

"I'll drag you out for school at the last possible second, okay Noodle?" Henry said closing the door behind him.

"Thanks. 'Night, Dad."

"Good night, sweetheart."

He wrapped an arm around his wife, as they staggered sleepily toward their bedroom.

"She okay?" He asked.

"Yeah, way better than the two of us." Elizabeth said collapsing into bed.

"Well, that's generally the case, isn't it?" He said climbing in beside her.

"It's almost pointless to sleep now. The alarm's going off in two hours." Elizabeth said still sitting up.

"Nah, babe. Close your eyes. Two hours is better than nothing."

"I guess." She lay back turning off the lamp, and rolling on her side, looked at her husband who is nearly asleep already.

"Henry?"

"No. No big heart to heart right now, babe. I'm too tired." He said without opening his eyes.

"No, nothing like that." She whispered. "But . . ."

"What?" He asked, opening his eyes blearily.

"Alison said my being Secretary of State wasn't that big of a change. She said people have always been watching us. Do you really think that's true?"

"No, see this is what I'm talking about." He said putting a pillow over his face. "This is a big heart to heart. Baby, go to sleep." He said, his voice muffled.

"So, that's a yes?" She asked.

Sighing, he tossed the pillow aside, and turning on his side, faced his wife. "Babe, any time you walk into a room, everyone turns your way. And it's not just because you are so damn beautiful it makes my heart ache. It's just you. You are a born leader. It was true the first day I met you and it's true now. It was probably true the day you were born - I bet all the other little babies in the hospital got moved to the back row, and they put you smack dab in that window."

"Henry James McCord, you are lying." She said, blushing. "That isn't the least bit true."

"I am tired, Elizabeth!" He moaned. "C'mon on! Go to sleep!"

"It isn't true?" She repeated. "Is it?"

"Babe, I swear on whatever ancient text you want me to, that you have always been high profile."

"I'm not sure how I feel about that." She said clearly surprised by this news.

"Why don't you close your eyes, and see if you can dream your way through it, babe?"

Her eyes drifted closed, almost against her will. "I'm not crazy about it - always being watched."

"None of us are, babe." He said softly, a gentle hand massaging her shoulder. "But it's the price you pay for being beautiful and intelligent."

"You ought to know." She said with a smile.

"Go to sleep, Elizabeth." He whispered, as he leaned over kissing her. "They'll be watching tomorrow, too."

"I bet you $50 there is an article this week about how tired I look and how it evidence we are splitting up."

"I'm not taking that bet. That's a losing proposition." He said laughing. He wrapped his arms around her, and closing his eyes asked, softly. "You okay?"

"I was almost asleep. I'm okay. Today was pretty crappy." She confessed.

"'The principal act of courage is to endure and withstand dangers doggedly rather than to attack them.'' He told her.

"Are you quoting at four in the morning? Seriously? It's a sickness, Henry. It really is."

"Thomas . . ."

But she was sound asleep before he finished the sentence. When dawn came, not long after,

they were still wrapped in each others arms, even as reporters gathered at a coffee shop just down the street, their cameras loaded and ready.

***MS***

 _Author's Note: Thanks for your patience! This took far longer than I expected and this particular chapter never seemed to find an end. I guess it is just that I love listening to them talk to each other. The rhythm of speech in the family scenes on the show is so natural and real. It is lovely to listen to - the teasing and the love. Anyway, they seemed to have tons to say. I hope you enjoyed this little story. I intend to post one last chapter to Meant to be Known. And then I have one little idea tickling the back of my brain . . .Is it October yet? What kind of crazy is that you wish for summer to end! Thanks for the reviews!_


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